Their First Thanksgiving

Chapter Eight: Scooby Makes an Entrance and Duncan Gets a Clue

********Interlude********

If the storm hadn't died down as if taking a breath before renewing its onslaught, the friends, for they were all still friends, would never have heard the scratching. It caught their attention mainly because it sounded like mice (or rats) running a marathon in the walls. The problem was the fact that the house Mystery Inc called home didn't have mice. Rats, yes, two big rats that loved cheese. These rats were affectionately known as Shaggy and Scooby. They loved cheese, any cheese, so much, it was near impossible to keep cheese in the home.

Shaggy, being immobile, Velma, being concerned for Shaggy's comfort, were both unable to respond. It was Fred who recovered from the surprise of the scratching and answered the door. It could be said that Scooby does not walk anywhere; he was known to amble, saunter, skip and tiptoe. Now he bounded into the room, shaking from nose to tail, sending a spray of snowy water in all directions.

"I'll get my hair dryer!" Daphne exclaimed, running down the hall.
"Not the industrial sized one!" Velma called towards her friends back, "Fred, don't let Scooby jump on Shaggy!"

"How am I supposed to do that!" An exasperated Fred looked down at his wet clothes.
"Offer him food or some Scooby Snacks, works for me." Velma returned with an arm load of towels. Daphne had not bought her industrial sized hair dryer; just a smaller version that could have been used in wind tunnel experiments.

Shaggy could only watch the ensuing scene of organized chaos and laugh while Fred and Velma attempted to towel dry Scooby in the tornado created by Daphne's hair dryer.

Afterward, a plump, well fed and dry Scooby lay on one side, his head resting on Shaggy's lap. Fred had returned from changing into dry clothes as had Velma and Daphne. Velma commandeered the seat opposite Scooby, beginning to speak as she sat down: "Our phones are out, we couldn't find out if you were with one of our parents and okay." Scooby patted his hard, extended tummy, "Rota rurkey and rooby racks and..."

"We get the picture, Scob, ol' pal. You went from house to house begging turkey and any Scooby Snacks you could. I've been telling the gang the story of MacBaggy Rogers on the 'Mayflower'."

"Rand Rankee Roodle Roo?"

"Yankee Doodle Doo hasn't shown up yet, but I'm sure he will."

"Rell re rhe rtory, raggy!"

"Okay, but I'm not going to start over..." Shaggy patted Scooby's head and scratched behind the ears in Scooby's favorite spot to be scratched.

********End Interlude********

The following days had been storm free and the 'Mayflower' had made good time. The only event of note had been the birth of a baby boy. Elizabeth Hopkins and son were doing well and her husband, Stephen, was overjoyed at being a new father.

For Duncan and Elizabeth the days were a respite and a chance to spend as much time together as was considered proper for that time. Most of their time together was spent with an accompanying chaperone, either Elizabeth's father or most likely her mother; finding time to be alone was difficult on a ship with one hundred and two passengers and a baby. One moonlit night they had their chance. They had taken their time, letting the other couples disappear down the hatch and to bed.

After the barrier of their first kiss had been overcome, Duncan had taken every opportunity to savor the taste of her full, supple lips. He had taken her in his arms with the full intention of renewing that flavorful acquaintance when they were interrupted by an unknown passenger erupting from below and rushing to the rail. Many passengers made the same trip, trying to relieve their intestinal distress. Elizabeth's ardor had grown throughout the day and evening in anticipation of the coming kiss; she stomped her foot in aggravation.

It wasn't the unknown man's duress that had caught Duncan's attention, it was the sailor who was ridiculing the man in foul language. The sailor had been using the foul language toward all the passengers since the beginning of the voyage; he was also the one who had waylaid Duncan with a tap on the head. Duncan saw the chance to repay the debt.

"That poor..." Elizabeth began but was cut off with Duncan's lips covering her own. She eagerly responded, the man and his tormentor forgotten, at least temporarily. For Duncan, it was a pleasant way to silence her and not draw attention to them. "I must say a reluctant good night." Duncan whispered in her ear, still holding her close.

"It's him, isn't it? Do be careful, my darling. I don't like that man." She referred to the sailor who continued his badgering.
"I don't know of what ye speak." Duncan responded but even in the moon light Elizabeth saw that his smile didn't reach his eyes. Their lips met again, hungrily, passionately as if it were to be their last kiss.
"Be careful anyway." She clung to him desperately, unwilling to release him but knowing in her heart that she must.

Leaving Elizabeth hadn't been easy but it had to be done. It was easy to follow the unnamed sailor as he walked away; moving quickly, Duncan found a suitable spot and waited. He didn't wait long. The sailor passed, muttering to himself, he never felt the blow that rendered him unconscious. Duncan caught him before he fell and carried him into the hold where he himself had been taken.

"You be the Scot what wants the amulet." The sailor had awakened in a fit of coughing to find he had been bound hand and foot.

"Aye, where be the amulet?" Duncan's voice, low and menacing, cut through the dark. The sailor glared first at the knife in the Scot's hand then into the man's eyes. The knife looked friendlier. "I don't have it." The sailor tried to laugh but ended in another fit of coughing.

"Ye will be telling Wee Willy here or ye won't see the morning sun." The moon light that filtered down into the hold reflected off the knife.

"I sold it...the old man didn't pay me enough to confront you and that witch."

"Who?" The voice was as sharp as the knife.

"I won't be telling ya and facing the witch," the sailor's hand moved to his coat. With a tug that sent him into yet another coughing fit, the sailor reached out his hand, "button, button. Who's got the button? That's the question now ain't it, Gov." Duncan gazed at the object in the sailor's hand before taking it and slipping the button into his pocket. He rose, leaving the sailor to his coughing.

The sailor would be missed come morning. Search parties would be sent out to explore the ship, Duncan would be expected to join; he had to be certain it wouldn't be his party that found the bound sailor.

Now, Duncan walked the deck, puffing contentedly on his pipe, wondering about the button and what it might mean, Elizabeth, and what her kiss might mean but mostly about the new born babe. He vowed to himself that if ever he had a son, he would not name him Oceanus!

Duncan need not have worried about the sailor. He was found, not by Duncan's search party by the way, alive but unconscious. He died three days later and was given a burial at sea.

TBC